Clinging to Humanity
by Cambrian Beckett
Summary: Growing up, there was nothing more that Marco Polo wanted than for his father to return and whisk him away on a great adventure. Marco wanted to see the world by the side of the man his mother had told him so many stories about. But the world is not just beauty and wonders. Sometimes new things can be so terrible, we wish we could go back. Sometimes you can never go back.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This started as another one shot for Gifts of Power but as I wrote it I realized how much I want to make it a full story, and as I considered whether or not to just post it standalone or put it with Gifts of Power, I came to the conclusion that the absolute best chance of this getting updated and possibly finished is if I make it its own standalone fic and shame myself into updating it at least semi-frequently.**

 **So here we go on another adventure, and an entirely new type of adventure at that. Vali is a plot device in this first chapter, and will not make another appearance. This story is set in the Netflix Original Series Marco Polo, and will focus on the titular character with a twist that I think everyone will pretty much fully understand by the end of the chapter.**

 **I'm pretty proud of this piece and I'm looking forward to what I have planned going forward, so I hope you enjoy.**

Marco kept his head down and tried his best to control the shaking prevalent throughout his entire body. His hands were tightened into fists in his lap as he knelt in the dirt, knuckles bone white from the pressure he was exerting on his curled fingers. Better to think about that, to focus on that, rather than look up and see what he could unfortunately plainly hear happening around him.

The sounds were that of death and horror, and yet Marco did not move, did not try to flee. How could he against such a monster? He'd seen a few of their caravan try to flee along with the animals, when the creature shaped like a man had first revealed his true features and ripped a merchant's head clean off. Faster than Marco's eyes could move, the monster had ran down those who tried to flee and killed every last one, man and animal alike.

Those who'd stayed, who'd cowered in abject terror, had no choice but to kneel in a line when he returned and ordered it in a cultured tone. Ever since, he'd been playing with them, toying with them. He would question each of them and at some point in the questioning, seemingly on nothing but a whim; the monster would kill the one he was questioning, in some gruesomely graphic way.

This was why at this point Marco was keeping his head down. He'd seen more bloodshed today than he'd wanted to see in a lifetime, and with his father and uncle between him and eminent death, he did not want to see either of them die. Marco could not bear it, despite the bad blood between him and his uncle, despite how weak and fragile the growing bond was between him and his father. They were family.

Perhaps that's why he finally managed to still the shaking and rise to his feet. Or perhaps he'd decided at some point during the horrors surrounding him that he'd rather die on his feet then on his knees. Regardless of why he'd done it, the decision was made, and as he expected, the monster was staring at him with a toothy smile when Marco finally raised his head to look the creature in the eye.

"Oh? What's this? Is this defiance? I was beginning to wonder if any of you had an ounce of it in you." The man-shaped thing began walking towards him, and Marco readied himself for death, only daring to hope it would be quick. However, the creature's unerring stare was cut off when his father rose and interposed himself between the two of them.

Niccolo Polo stood between his only son and a monster and pleaded with the merciless creature for mercy. "Please, he's my only son, my flesh in blood. Let him go, I beg of you. You must let him go."

That only served to make the creature amused from the looks of things, even as Marco stared at his father with wide eyes, shocked by such a surprising display of emotion.

"I must let him go?" Marco's eyes flicked back to the monster at those words. His tone was one Marco was quickly beginning to recognize. Dangerous. They were about to die and silently, Marco found his hand coming up to grasp at the cross hanging around his neck.

Only, from one moment to the next they continued to exist. Instead of attacking, the creature chuckled instead before leaning forward as if to peer into his father's soul, "Tell me, what is your name?"

"N-niccolo Polo. M-my name is Niccolo Polo. Behind me is my son Marco Polo, and knelt to your right is my brother, Maffeo Polo." From the way Marco's uncle flicks an angry glance up at his father, Marco is quite sure the man did not want to have any attention drawn his way.

Yet it seemed that the information had had some effect on the creature, as he raised both eyebrows and murmured beneath his breath, "Marco Polo. Yes, of course."

There was a moment of silence before the monster grinned again and clapped his hands together, "Well now I know why I'm here!"

The discourse had begun to lull both Marco and his father into a false sense of security. When the beast smiled and clapped, Marco was almost ready to give a tentative smile back just to placate him a little longer. Then the killing began. Or perhaps it would be best to say the monster finished what he'd already started. Besides the three Polos there were five members of their caravan left alive when Marco stood.

In only a few moments, the five were all dead and as their killer flicked the blood of his last victim from his fingers, Marco's courage and legs finally decided to fail him at the same time. He fell on his ass and stayed there, frozen in horror. The blood-drenched creature started walking towards him and when Niccolo attempted to stand in his way, he was tossed aside with contemptuous ease.

Then, the beast was crouched in front of Marco and smiling winningly. Marco would have even been set at ease by such a smile, if it wasn't sharing face time with fangs, gold and black eyes, and a copious amount of drying blood. At the same time, Marco made the mistake of looking into those gold and black eyes and being unable to escape them, his own eyes locked in place as the monster spoke in a soft inviting tone that Marco found himself unable to resist.

"Cup your hands together for me Mr. Polo."

Doing as he was told, Marco could only watch as the creature brought his own wrist up and bit into it with his fangs, before pouring a steady stream of blood into Marco's makeshift container. The intelligent young man wasn't very surprised when the bite healed in moments, nor was he surprised when the next order was to drink what he'd been given.

He did so, unable to stop himself. He choked down the blood until there was nothing left of the coppery liquid. Once he was done the creature smiled again and straightened up. Suddenly Marco found himself in control again, able to move his hands from their cupped form and his eyes from where they'd been held by that terrible gaze.

One of his hands immediately went to the cross beneath his shirt, and the beast noticed the movement. Amusement colored the inhuman features as the cross was pulled roughly from Marco's neck and studied by those horrifying eyes.

"Psalms 72:11. All kings shall fall before him."

Marco chanced a glance up at the beast and was a bit outraged if not surprised as the creature laughed. Now he laughed at the word of God? How dare h-

Such thoughts are cut off by the monster's next words. "Do you pray to God for deliverance Mr. Polo? Is he going to save you and your family from me? I will let you in on a secret. God has sent me to you. I am only here now because of God. All of your suffering, all of your pain and agony now and into the future, you may lay at God's feet."

His brow furrowed, Marco opened his mouth to object to such blaspheme, but before he could get even a sound out, the monster's hand gripped his face, covering his mouth and nose and causing Marco's eyes to widen at the sheer speed, despite having already seen just how fast the thing was. The beast's free hand comes up and with his index finger pressed against his lips, he winks.

"Shh, shh. Don't talk. Sleep."

With a twist, Marco feels a sharp pain in his neck and then he feels nothing at all.

-x-X-x-

Marco wakes with a gasp and a shout, coming up from where his body had laid on the sand with wide eyes. He immediately wishes he hadn't as he takes in the sight before him. His father is still relatively unharmed, albeit restrained with rope in such a way that he can barely move, as well as gagged so he cannot speak. However, his uncle is spread before him with much of his skin flayed from his body. His clothing is torn from him and his chest is exposed to the harsh elements.

But then, his chest isn't exactly intact anymore, its torn open so that Marco can see his uncle's bones and organs, he can see his exposed lungs struggling to take in air and his heart as it beats frantically in its place. And to the side, the monster that's done all this with his bare hands looks up as Marco awakens and has the audacity to smile.

"Ah, Mr. Polo, finally back with us? Good, good. I told poor Maffeo here that he wasn't going to die until you came back to life. I believe he was starting to despair of it ever happening. But, a promise is a promise."

A casual swipe takes his uncle's head off right at the shoulders and Marco can only watch as it rolls away and the exposed organs in the decapitated body finally stop their frenzied efforts to keep working, the entire body settling down into death. Marco wishes he was feeling disgust. He should be disgusted. But as he stares at what should be the most horrific thing he's ever seen in his life, all he feels instead, is hunger.

A chuckle breaks his intense focus on the corpse, drawing his gaze back to the monster that'd just killed his uncle, "No no Marco. This isn't for you. This is a lesson. Your meal is right there, all tied up and ready for you."

Marco's eyes follow the beast's pointing finger to his father and his eyes widen as he finds himself of two warring minds. One is immediately horrified at the idea that he might harm his father and resolutely puts its foot down about ever doing what the monster wanted of him. The other catches sight of the pulse in Niccolo Polo's exposed neck and becomes hyper focused on the way the blood moves right below the surface, just out of reach.

In a moment of clarity Marco realizes what he really wants. He wants blood. His uncle's blood is open to the air and it's causing Marco's thoughts to grow rather hazy and tinted in red. His father's is out of reach but no less desirable. Marco's entire body shudders and he tears his focus from both sources of blood to look into the gold and black eyes of the one who had clearly done this to him.

"What have you done to me?"

Smiling wickedly, the beast stands from the side of Maffeo's corpse and spreads his blood soaked arms wide, "You have been cursed Marco Polo. The sins of the father fall onto the son. God's will be done, and once you drink your father's lifeblood, it will be done."

Marco's eyes are perpetually wide at this point as he shakes his head in both denial and disbelief, "No, I won't. I refuse."

He's proud of the fact that his voice didn't stutter or catch there, even as the monster just chuckles in response. "You will Marco Polo. I could make you do it, but I won't. As I said, your uncle was a lesson. You care about your father yes? I offer you his relatively painless death at your own hands." A pause here as he looks to Maffeo's mutilated corpse. "Or, he can experience what I did to poor Maffeo a hundred fold, until you finally cave and end his suffering. It is your choice Marco Polo."

Marco looks at his uncle's body in a different light and swallows thickly before looking to his father. Niccolo is staring back at him, and after a moment his head shifts, indicating Marco to approach. He did so, stumbling on the first step before finding his footing, glancing at the monster to see if he'd try to stop him, but the creature just stood by smiling.

Reaching his father, Marco pulled out the gag and Niccolo coughed and ran his tongue over his teeth before speaking in a low tone. "Marco, I never wanted this for you. His words, they expose the truth of this. All of it, all of this is my fault. My sins, my penance. Run Marco, leave me to this punishment. Run!"

"You could run." The words pierce the air and both Polos turn their eyes to the beast in surprise that he could hear Niccolo's words. He just smirks at them before continuing. "I would let you go Marco, if you chose to run now. In the best case scenario, you will die at the end of the day as the curse fails to take ahold and your body fails naturally. I did kill you when I snapped your neck after all."

Here, the monster's eyes turn to Niccolo. "You would die within the day. It would be painful and hard. But your father here, he would last much longer than you. What you would suffer in the next day if you fled now would pale in comparison to his unending suffering. You don't strike me as a coward Marco Polo. What will you do? Die and condemn your father to a fate worse than death, or kill him mercifully here and now, and accept the curse I have put on you?"

What would Marco do? As he looked into the monster's eyes, it seemed they both realized at the same moment what Marco would do. With a smirk, the beast flicked a small shiv over to Marco and to the young Italian's surprise, he caught it with no issue. Gripping the handle and gritting his teeth, he turned to look into his father's eyes for the last time.

"I am sorry father. I will carry your sins for you." With a swift movement, he cuts into Niccolo's neck right where that pulse has been beating in his ears this entire time. As his father's blood begins to flow, Marco lowers his mouth and begins to drink. The change is almost immediate, he feels his teeth elongating and changing in his mouth, allowing him to bite down deeper into his father's neck. He can feel his eyes straining as well, changing. His eye sight can make out every single wrinkle and crack in his father's pained face as he dies in Marco's suddenly stronger grip.

Marco cannot tear himself away until every last drop of Niccolo's blood has passed his lips and his father's body is cold in his hands. When he finally does though, he does so violently, pushing the body to the ground and standing up, stumbling back and retching at his actions. He knows now on a fundamental level that the beast is right. He is cursed now.

"You made the right choice Marco Polo. Welcome to your new world. This is your new existence. Immortality."

Marco's eyes flash up to the one who'd made him like this and though he wishes to rage and attack the monster, he finds himself strangely unwilling, even lethargic. Instead he puts his thoughts to words. "Earlier. You said God sent you. Why? What did my father do for our family to deserve this?"

He punctuates the last word with a wave of his hand at the carnage around them. All he gets in response is a laugh. "Every man sins Marco Polo. Your father was no worse or better than most of the world. God does bring justice to those who deserve it. God does what he does for amusement. That is what you are to him now. Diversion. Amusement. Sport. Humans are like ants to God Marco Polo. Why would he care about us as anything more than seeing how we scurry about when a boot falls from the heavens to crush us."

Marco wants to dispute this, but all of the biblical teachings he remembers from his childhood did not prepare him for this. That is words on paper in a book. This, this is reality. How can he deny it when it stares him in the future? If God was just and moral, why would he allow something like this to happen? And if God is truly all powerful and all seeing, how indeed can he possibly personally care about the scurrying of human shaped ants beneath his gaze?

"You understand now Marco. I can see it in your face. It's good that you begin this new life with this basic understanding already accepted and behind you. You have a lot of time in front of you. And God has words for you."

Marco flicks his eyes to those of his maker to show he's listening but does not respond beyond that.

"You are cursed to wander the Earth Marco Polo. You will explore the far reaches of the world and discover things never seen by any before you. You will get your greatest wish, to adventure the world and see all it has to offer."

Marco can't help it; he snorts derisively, "Doesn't sound like much of a curse."

He knows immediately that the words are a mistake as the monster's grin turns far more sinister. "There will come a time Marco Polo, where you wish to settle. You will want to stop your adventuring and leave your mark on the world in a more permanent way. Maybe marry a nice girl, have a couple children. This will never be possible for you. The adventure does not end. Your greatest wish becomes your eternal hell Marco Polo."

Ah, so there's the catch. Marco can't help but think that he should have seen such a thing coming, what with his new worldview of God being more akin to Satan. Before he can respond the beast is in front of him, grasping him by the shoulders and once more locking eyes with him.

"My time grows short Marco Polo, but there are a couple more things I must say before I go. First of all, you are immortal but not invincible. You can die, you can be imprisoned. When you die, your soul goes to God and I don't think I need to tell you that despite everything you've ever been taught, that is not a good thing. Even endlessly wandering the world is a better fate Marco Polo. Unless you want to become like me."

"Second, let's direct you a bit on the way to your first adventure. You're going to turn East and walk. Keep going until you run into something interesting alright? Don't stop before then. Understand?"

Marco finds himself nodding along and when he's let go, he turns to the East and begins walking, leaving behind his family's dead bodies, the carnage that was their caravan, and all of their supplies. Marco Polo, drenched in his father's blood, slowly plods along deeper into Asia and towards the greatest king the world had ever known, the Great Kublai Khan.

 **A/N: Well there we go. Please let me know what you think, and if you have any questions, I will try to answer them as promptly as I can. This will hopefully be my main story for the next little while and hopefully I'll finish this piece. I only intend to cover the first season of Marco Polo, though of course we'll have to see just how long this story can even stay on those rails with this change I've made. Should be fun!**

 **Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2 in which our newborn monster has a newborn crybaby moment.**

Marco walked for hours until those hours turned into days and nights. The sun rose and set around him but he did not stop moving East, eyes flickering left and right as he looked for something interesting to fulfill the last command placed on him. He knew not the how, but he did know in his bones that if he could just find something interesting, he would be free of those final words that had passed through his ears. Free of that piercing gaze that had dug past his eyes and clung to his very soul.

It felt like an eternity, but finally something happened. As Marco came to the bottom of a hill, a group of horse riders crested it and came down towards him. They looked Mongolian and even as Marco thought to himself that this was certainly something interesting, his body suddenly obeyed his commands again. The rider at the head of the group was shouting at him, and so he did the only thing he could, raising his hands and shouting in what broken Mongolian he'd learned during the trip.

"Please! No threat! No threat!"

Encircled by horses in moments, Marco could do nothing but keep his hands high in the air with fingers spread. All the while, the heart beats of the men and beasts around him sang loudly in his ears. It took all he had to keep his teeth from elongating as he kept his lips pressed tightly together. He could only hope his eyes would stay normal as well. As the horsemen came to a stop around him, their leader looked him up and down before barking out an order.

Luckily they did not reach for swords or bows. Unluckily, they did reach for rope, and Marco was forced to submit to restraints around his wrists in short order. He did not struggle or resist. While the memory of the monster telling him to avoid imprisonment flickered through his mind, he still believed it worse than the assured death if he tried to flee from Mongolians on horseback. So the party of riders went and Marco followed, believing he had no choice but to do so.

-x-X-x-

They interrogated him of course, on the way to wherever the riding party was taking him. He was actually grateful for it, if only because the language barrier allowed him to perfect and refine his story. Having had plenty of time to think about just what he was going to say concerning the monster, he knew for a fact that he wasn't going to tell the entire truth. That would be stupid. At the very least, it would more than likely get him either locked up or experimented on until they found a way to kill him.

Instead, Marco changed the narrative, describing the monster in human skin as an actual beast. He was more than happy to tell his story as well, which meant his current captors did not see fit to harm him too much. That was very good, because he was already having a hard time controlling his urges as it was. He had the feeling that losing more of his own blood would only hasten the need to feed once more as he'd done on his father already.

Arriving at what could only be the Imperial City that Marco's father had described to him as their final destination; Marco could not help extending his heightened senses as he followed the riders through the gates. There were so many sensations, so many voices and smells and so many bodies. After years of traveling the Silk Road with only a small caravan, and days of walking the last bit of the trek solely on his own, being in a city again was a phenomenal experience.

One only interrupted by his captors reminding him of his more immediate situation with their yelling and their pushing, as they got him through the crowds of people inquisitive about his European look. He was hustled along towards a palace that dominated a large part of the city. Marco couldn't help but assess himself as he was led deep into the Palace.

If he had to describe himself in one word, it would be dirty. The blood that had coated his front had mostly dried and much of it had flaked off. At this point it was just another aspect of his dirty traveled appearance thankfully. Of course, he could still smell it due to his heightened senses, and that certainly wasn't doing wonders for his restraint either. But all in all, he was as presentable as anyone would be given his circumstances.

The next moment he could spend no more time contemplating how he looked as the large doors to the throne room were pushed open before him and he was led in by the rope still restraining his wrists. Of course Marco took in the room, he was if nothing else, a creature driven by curiosity. He wouldn't have been here if he wasn't.

Robed and turbaned men stared at him from both sides as he walked the long hall. It seemed the Great Kublai Khan's court was in full attendance for his audience. As he reached the halfway point, the people staring at him changed. Instead of men who may have been merchants, there were warriors and beautiful women. The women were to Marco's right and the warriors were to the left.

But the dais was where the real power was. On the left, three men sat who Marco pegged as advisors to the Great Khan. They looked at him with varying levels of disgust and interest. Behind them stood a younger man, who was more than likely more important than any of them to Kublai, given his place at the Khan's right hand. He seemed faintly disturbed by Marco's appearance, leading the Latin to wonder if he'd ever seen a European before.

Seated on the right side of the dais at the Khan's left hand was a beautiful mature woman who could only be the Khan's wife or lover given her age and her location in the court. Finally, in the center sat Kublai himself, on a golden throne with perched growling dragons for armrests. Shadows covered the Khan's face and the effect was certainly ominous, as Marco was brought to a stop and forced to kneel.

That was when he finally lowered his eyes, acting as if he'd not known the protocol until that moment. To be fair, he hadn't technically; he'd just easily guessed at it and then ignored it in favor of information gathering. Now, he would be giving information, instead of taking it.

"This is the survivor from the Silk Road? A Latin lives where warriors and farmers do not? Tell me why you have come to my lands Latin. And then you will tell me in detail what you survived."

Marco was thankful that Kublai spoke Latin, if a bit surprised. He returned the favor with pleasure, happy not to insult anyone here with his broken Mongolian. "I traveled with a caravan of merchants along your Silk Road for the last three years Great Khan. My father and uncle, they had come this way before and when they returned to their homeland they found me grown and waiting. My name is Marco Polo and my father was Niccolo Polo. You ordered him to bring Christian Priests when he returned to you, but they could not handle the journey. And my father did not survive the end of it."

The Emperor, described to Marco by his father as the greatest king in the known world, pondered this for a moment. "I know who you speak of. Your men of god retreated, yet you did not. Your father faltered and fell, yet here you are alive and well before me. How do you survive where he did not? Tell me Latin, of the beast that preys upon my Silk Road and just how you survived it when no one else has."

Swallowing thickly, Marco feels a lump in his throat as he prepares to lie to a room full of men older and much more wise and experienced in the ways of the world than he. "It was indeed a beast, Great Khan. Nothing I had ever seen before, not in my home of Venice or in the journey along your Silk Road. It was a large creature, with paws that could remove a head from a body in a single swipe. But the teeth are what I remember most clearly."

Marco shudders visibly, and it's not faked even a bit, as he simply places the smiling inhuman face in his mind's eye and remembers his uncle's torn open body lying next to it. "The teeth were long and sharp, and it had two that were longer still, fangs that reached down from its maw. I believe these were specifically for drawing blood more easily. From what I personally witnessed, the monster preferred blood over flesh or bone."

Here, the woman Marco had pegged as the Khan's wife spoke up. She had a nice voice, one that caused something to stir in Marco. It was a different type of hunger, and not one he should really be feeling for the Mongolian Empress. Is his curse going to make him as randy as it does make him hungry for blood? Christ.

"And if you personally witnessed the beast's preferences, how did you survive? Do you expect us to believe it simply let you go?"

He blinked at that, caught off guard a bit by the interjection from a source he wasn't expecting. Trying to rally quickly, he nods in response. "Yes. Well, I believe so anyways. I did manage to strike it with a knife, but the wound was nothing to the beast, I'm sure. When it slinked away, it did not feel like I'd fought it off, more like I'd been spared for some reason."

"The boy is lying, obviously."

Marco's eyes flash to one of the men sitting on the left side of the Khan's dais. An older Arabic man wearing a turban and walking with a limp as he stood up at Kublai's prompting. Turning an accusatory glare onto Marco, the man spoke to all those assembled. "The Latin has no skill at it, but it's clear he is withholding information. Great Khan, I advise he be removed from your court so that we may find the truth of things in a more private setting."

Eyes widening at that, Marco had no trouble reading between the lines. Torture was not something he wanted on the table and as the Great Khan nodded at the Arab's suggestion and gestured for Marco to be removed, he panicked just a little, getting to his feet unprompted. "Wait! No!"

They weren't listening to him though, the Mongolian holding the rope that was coiled around his wrists already trying to pull him towards the door. Marco shook his head and planted his feet, hands grabbing onto his end of the rope and pulling in response. "No, please!"

Everyone in the room froze in shock, Marco included, when his captor was flung through the air by Marco pulling on the rope between them. The man hit a pillar and slid down it, letting go of the rope and leaving Marco restrained but also free. Staring down at his hands, he pulled hard and found the rope snapped easily, leaving him entirely free.

He didn't have much of a chance to marvel at his new strength however, as he was brought back down to earth by the number of royal guards coming at him with long halberds, yelling loudly in Mongolian Marco didn't quite understand. Immediately, Marco brought up his hands and opened them wide in a warding gesture.

"Please, wait! Stop! Great Khan I apologize! I did lie, I admit it, but I was afraid! I will tell you the truth, I swear it!"

The royal guards still surrounded him, but it seemed they were hesitant to approach despite his weaponless status. It seemed his little public display of strength had provoked a bit of caution in the guards surrounding him. Most of those in the room were in varying states of shock. Kublai himself was half out of his seat now, letting Marco finally see the Emperor's actual features, no longer hidden by shadow.

After a moment, the glaring Khan nodded. "Speak fast Latin."

At that, the halberds around Marco dipped and the guards backed up to give him room. Letting out a breathe he didn't even know he'd been holding, Marco kept his hands in the open and spread apart even as he went with Plan B to try and explain himself. "I did not lie, but I did withhold information. The beast did not just let me go as I said. It did not slink away. It spoke to me."

There's disbelief across the throne room at that, but Marco plowed forward anyways. "I-it said that with my father's death it had laid a curse upon me. The monster told me that for the sins of my father I would suffer for eternity. It told me that I was cursed to wander forever more. Only then did it let me go. I do not know where it went after that."

There's murmuring throughout the throne room, but Marco's eyes are locked with the Great Khan even as the Emperor seems to study him in silence for several long moments.

One of the advisors who had not yet interjected opened his mouth to finally do so but Marco interrupted him, afraid he would speak against him like the other, Marco pulled the shiv that he'd been forced to cut into his father with from the folds of his clothes. It hadn't been hard to hide; his captors hadn't spent much time searching him. Not as much time as they should have. The throne room reacted to the glint of metal with predictable vehemence, but Marco shouted over them to make sure Kublai heard him.

"I will prove it Great Khan." And then without further fanfare, Marco took the shiv and stabbed it deep into his neck. As blood spurts from the wound, Marco grimaces at the pain and falls to his knees. The entire throne room is silent, once again staring at him in shock, though this time it's more at his stupidity Marco can't help but think. He only has a moment to wonder if he made a mistake as he pulls the shiv out, a steady stream of fresh blood following it and staining his clothes even further.

After that moment passes however, he can feel the wound in his neck closing, and though they're shaky at first, he puts his legs under him and stands of his own power a moment later, standing tall and staring the Emperor of Mongolia and China in the eye. That's when one of the royal guards decides to stab the large blade of his halberd into Marco's gut and out his back, causing the poor boy to bend over at the waist and cough up blood.

Even still, Marco finds it easier to recover this time and he grabs onto the handle of the Halberd for balance. He finds out how strong his grip is a moment later when the handle splinters in his grasp and the beautifully made halberd is broken in two with the sharp half still in him. Stumbling back with a large blade piercing through his body, Marco grabs the handle with both hands and pulls, hard.

With another cough full of blood, the blade of the halberd comes free and Marco lets it fall to the ground as he feels his insides closing up again. Even as this is happening however, he sees more of the royal guard moving forward to skewer him or stab at him or cut at him. He searches for escape but sees none. The doors behind him are closed and the blades close in on him from all sides. He looks beyond the royal guard to see a grim looking Kublai looking on.

Marco finds himself thinking that if he could just convince the Khan he meant no harm, he could end this. He finds himself taking an involuntary step forward towards the dais, only to suddenly appear ten feet forward, past the guards aiming for him and in an open area of the throne room between the dais and the guards at his back. Even as too slow mortal eyes try to turn to track his movement, he does it again, flashing forward to the dais.

The Great Kublai Khan falls back on his golden throne in surprise as Marco jumps to right in his face, but Marco has no ill intentions. Instead, he falls to the Emperor's feet and grabs onto the hem of Kublai's ceremonial robe. "Please Great Khan. I beg of you, please believe me. I mean no harm to you or your people. I beg you, let me prove it. Let me serve you."

The words are from the heart. Each time Marco has taken what should be a life threatening blow in the past five minutes, those last words from the monster echoed through his head.

' _When you die, your soul goes to God and I don't think I need to tell you that despite everything you've ever been taught, that is not a good thing. Even endlessly wandering the world is a better fate Marco Polo. Unless you want to become like me.'_

Marco found that the one thing he feared more than anything was becoming like the monster that had destroyed his family, or even just finding himself at the tender mercies of a God who would make such a creature in the first place. He was ready to sacrifice much to avoid such a fate.

A hand came down to rest on his head and Marco dared a peek up at the Great Khan he was currently bleeding on. The man was smiling down at him. "You wish to serve in the court of the Khan of Khans, do you? What greater tribute can a man offer than his own flesh, his own blood? I accept your pledge Latin."

Marco could hear the guards behind him backing away, but he held back the sigh of relief wanting to escape past his lips, because the look on the Khan's face had changed, the smile had disappeared, and the hand he rested on Marco's hair became a gripping fist as the Emperor of Mongolia pulled his head up to look him over.

"Yes, I can certainly find a use for you, Marco Polo."

 **A/N: GIB FEEDBACK PLZ *makes grabby hands***

 **Would love to know what you think of this. Obviously Marco acted very differently from how any of my SIs have ever acted, but then he's not a metagaming godmodding bitch like I am, and in point of fact he's not me at all so I'm trying to stay true to what I can grasp of his character on the show. He's not gonna be a scared pansy forever though. Especially not with how Kublai intends to use him.**


End file.
